Chapter 19
Awareness returned to me in small, unsteady sips. First, a tingling in my fingers and toes drew me back to the land of the living. As more trickled in, a throbbing pain accompanied it. I groaned, the sound making my ribs ache.
My face scrunched up, and I forced one eye open, then another. Attention snapped into me when I noted the solid wood beams over my head. The next moment, something soft pressed into my backside.
Why am I in bed?
I tried to sit up, only to be jerked back by something cinching tight across my chest. Looking down, I found a strip of soft cloth tied around my torso, securing me in place.
A snort-snore had me whipping my head to the side. A male snoozed in a chair beside me, spectacles hanging off the end of his nose. His face was weather-worn and crinkled with age. And wholly unfamiliar.
Where am I?
I glanced to my other side, finding a wide window overlooking what appeared to be a small village. An adjacent house had curls of smoke coming from its chimney. The sound of children’s laughter filtered through the cracks of the roof overhead.
Where is the Issaraeth?
I tried to sit up again, only to be met with a searing bout of agony in my leg.
Memories slammed into me as I sank back. Running from my captor. Injuring myself. The mate bond snapping into place. The Issaraeth using his magic to force me to drink a potion.
Goddess damn it all.
A sob lodged in my chest. How long had it been since then?
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
The old male’s voice made me jump. I returned my attention to him, trying to banish the tears. He noted them anyway. “Do you need more pain medication?”
Without waiting for me to reply, he lifted a vial from somewhere nearby.
“Please, no. I don’t want to sleep anymore,” I pleaded, shrinking back.
He paused with the cork halfway out. “I can give you something else for the pain that won’t make you tired.”
“That would be better,” I said, hoping he spoke true. My knee fucking hurt but if I had to suffer so I didn’t slip away again, I would.
The male—a healer by my guess—grabbed another vial, this one clear instead of a milky purple like what my mate had given me. “I’ve had other patients complain about the taste of this one. If you need something to wash it down, I have that.”
I nodded and he approached, lifting my head and pressing the rim to my lips. After only a moment of hesitation, I gulped it down. The taste was bitter, and I spluttered as the healer pulled away. “That is awful.”
“Here,” he said, offering me a sip of citrus juice. Immediately, the foulness coating my tongue disappeared.
“Thank you,” I breathed, sinking back against the pillow. “Any reason I’m tied down?”
A small chuckle was his reply. “The Issaraeth didn’t trust you not to try to run while he was out. Didn’t trust me not to let you either.”
The words hit me harder than the restraints. Even injured and utterly helpless, he’d caged me. Again.
My body would never be my own. Not around him. And certainly not around his sister.
“Are you Elssarum?” I asked, wretched hope rising in my chest that he might be able to help me.
He shook his head, and I deflated. “That’s just how he is. Everything must be perfectly in order and under his control. This isn’t the first time he’s stopped in here with someone who needed healing. Count yourself lucky that’s all you needed. You’re too young for a pyre.”
I swallowed. Hard. The Issaraeth’s actions weren’t a secret. It was why everyone feared him. But the casual way this male spoke of it settled unease in my gut.
“Are you hungry?” he asked me.
Perhaps a few minutes ago, I would have been, but now, the thought of food made me want to retch. “Maybe later.”
“Aye, after the pain potion kicks in. You’ll feel much better.” He turned his back to me for a moment, messing with something on the table that was out of sight.
I stared up at the ceiling, praying the Issaraeth would forget about me and never return.
I wasn’t that lucky.
The bond twisted tighter in my chest in warning—no, a threat—that my mate closed in. My breath stuttered as my pulse spiked. The even cadence of his footsteps smacked against the wood floor a moment later.
I dropped my chin to my chest, digging inside me for a spark of something powerful to cling to, so that when I faced him, he did not force me to surrender.
His velvety voice enveloped me when he entered the room, rolling a shiver down my spine. “Thank you, healer. I’ll manage from here.”
The smell of something savory reached my nose. Had he brought me food? I peeked at him from under my lashes, noting the hot, steaming meal atop a tray.
My stomach betrayed me with a loud rumble.
“Of course Herr R?viel,” the male replied, sweeping into a low bow.
Diningware clinked as the Issaraeth set the tray to the side, then approached me. Our eyes locked, and my world lurched.
Duty. Defiance. Desire.
All braided together until the individual strands were undistinguishable.
Until he tore his gaze away and to the bind securing me to the bed. Without speaking, he ran his fingers along it, a hair’s breadth from my skin, until he found something to release it. The fabric fell away, and yet, I didn’t dare move. Not with him this close to me.
He stepped away and retrieved the tray. “Sit up if you want to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I told him, fingers tightening in the blankets.
“Liar.” That one word, loaded with truth and loathing, accompanied a knowing look.
Our bond was the real traitor.
So I shoved myself upright, scooting slowly so as not to jostle my knee. My side ached, but not nearly as it had when the Issaraeth carried me back to the trunk of the tree. My mate settled the food across my lap, then reached behind me and adjusted the pillows.
I couldn’t stand his tenderness. Not after everything he’d done.
A hearty meal greeted me. River fish in some sort of sauce, along with wilted greens. Rich, buttery potatoes. A roll that smelled of cheese and herbs. Better food than I’d had in weeks.
I looked at him, then back at what he’d brought me. “How long was I out? Where are we?”
He ran a hand over his jaw, more visible now that he’d shaved off the grown-out beard he’d accumulated during his hunt. “A few days.”
Irritation nipped at me as he only answered one of my questions. “And where are we?”
“Eat,” he ordered, sinking into the chair the healer had occupied.
“Where are we?” I pressed, undeterred. I’d gone on little sustenance for weeks. I could hold out a few more minutes until I got answers.
The Issaraeth didn’t speak. Merely held my gaze with a cold, detached air. Yet the riot of emotion down our bond told me he was anything but.
At least we were in agreement on that front. The abhorrence. The disdain. The confusion.
A minute passed, then another, as we held our staredown. I refused to be the first to break.
“Do I need to Command you?” he finally said, a dark brow lifting.
That infuriated me. “Is that what you will resort to any time I do not do what you wish?”
“It can be. Don’t tempt the monster.”
He flung the word I’d used against him back with a sardonic tone. I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not. My better judgement told me he wasn’t.
So, reticently, I picked up the fork and speared it into my food. The first bite of fish was divine. The potatoes? Decadent. All restraint fell away, and I shoveled the entire plate into my greedy belly.
By the time I finished the food and drained the last of the juice, I felt immensely better. Any lingering fuzziness from whatever potion they’d used to knock me out had dissipated. The pain relief the healer had given me had taken effect.
Which meant all my focus went to ire directed at my Goddess-cursed fated mate.
He steepled his fingers, elbows digging into the sides of the chair, and watched me. His expression was unreadable. I probed against the barrier to his mind, finding a solid wall there, much like the one I’d erected on my side.
“So…” I began, unsure what I wanted from him other than answers. “What did the healer say about my knee?”
“Shattered kneecap,” he replied, tone flat and merciless. Just like him.
The Issaraeth slid a knife into my heart with those two words. I closed my eyes as I absorbed the news. Even with our fast-healing abilities and the additional potions I’d take, repairing the damage done would take a month, if not more. And after that?
I may never dance again.
The one good thing I had in this world, gone in an instant. Overtaken by the destiny I’d sought to outrun.
“I hate you.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He really did ruin everything for me, didn’t he?
“I know,” came his reply. Yet beneath the harshness of his tone was something more…vulnerable. Tormented, even.
His comment about not being able to be any more miserable than he already was drifted back to me.
What could he have possibly meant by that?
“We’re in Stadur. Have been for a day now after I flew you over the forest to get you to a healer.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him again.
This time, he glanced away, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Didn’t want you to suffer.”
This male was an enigma.
“Because you’d caused enough already for me? Or because the bond was being annoying about it?” I questioned. At the mention of the chain linking our fates, it rattled in my chest. I’d been unconscious for days, which meant that the Issaraeth hadn’t claimed me.
And oh, how it roared its fury.
With a grimace, like he heard the bellow too, my mate met my gaze again. “We’ll set out tomorrow for Sivy. I’ve arranged for a cart so you won’t have to walk or ride a horse.”
There he went, not answering my questions again.
A scoff escaped me, and I shoved the tray away. “Right, because all I’m good for is my visions.”
His hands fell to his lap, and he leaned closer to the bed, sucking all the air from the room with that singular movement.
A small gasp escaped me before I could haul it back into my mouth.
His attention flicked to my parted lips.
“You would be wise to remember that, little fugitive. The Angel court is not a place for those who forget their position.”
“The Angel court is not somewhere I ever want to be. And yet I’m being dragged there against my will. To serve in senseless bloodshed. I will not stain my hands for you,” I hissed back.
Dark amusement glittered in his icy eyes. “All you Elessarum are fools. There is no escaping this holy war. Not until it is over and the Koron and Korona sit atop the thrones in Sivy and Uzhhorod.”
With that, he rose to his full height. His broad shoulders ate up all the space around me. In clean clothes, well-groomed, with posture straight enough to hold the weight of the world, he was imposing. Dangerous. Deadly.
Before I could register what was happening, he framed me with his muscled arms. Sank closer until his lips brushed the shell of my pointed ear. “Nor is there any escaping me. You are mine now, Sylaira.”
He retreated, taking the heat of his skin and the scent of stormwood with him. I could only blink as he strode for the half-open door. He slipped through it like a blade between ribs, and then shut it softly behind him.
Leaving me reeling amid the tempest of my emotions.
Especially as his claim on me whipped through my mind like a windstorm, lashing every fiber of my being. I hated it. Loathed him.
So why did my skin pebble and my low belly heat at the way my name rolled across his tongue?
Disgusted with myself, I sank back down, trying to make myself comfortable to rest again.
He was right. He didn’t even need to tie me down again.
There was no way I could escape him, not with the injury to my knee.
Flying would only get me so far when his auravane was faster than I could ever dream to be.
Panic gripped me then, freezing the air in my lungs. I couldn’t run from him. Couldn’t sever this bond. Couldn’t stop my body from reacting to him.
There was one very, very real monster holding me hostage—in more ways than one. And I got the sense he’d never let me go.